


Let Me Know You

by CasinoLights



Series: Until the Night Turns [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Finger Sucking, Intimacy, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 04:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15656001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasinoLights/pseuds/CasinoLights
Summary: “I want to know you. I want to know everything about you.”“Then let me know you. Let us know each other.” His fingers comb slowly through her brown locks. “In every sense of the word.”Joseph Seed calls for a single day of peace in Hope County so he can speak with the woman leading the so-called Resistance. Neither of them anticipated just how difficult it would be to stay on track when the other was looking at them like *that,* however, and soon enough, they're hardly speaking at all.





	Let Me Know You

He invites her to a chapel by the Henbane River, somewhere near the edge of the Holland Valley. Neutral ground, he says, as if anything in the Henbane could be fair to the Resistance she’s building. But Joseph promises he’ll come alone, and he even offers to let Sasha bring an armed ally if they remain in her car. Generous, even for him, but he insists on her comfort.

Sasha lets her fingers drift over the praying hands embossed on the sign beside the door. The verse of the day marked on it - with a date of three months ago - is listed as Revelations 21:4. The outside of the church has peeling white paint and boarded-up windows, ones she could easily break if she needs to escape quickly. The door has no lock, which is another good sign. He doesn’t seem to be cornering her here, which is mildly reassuring, but he has to have _some_ sort of ulterior motives, doesn’t he?

Her car waits in the gravel parking lot, sitting empty. She knows Joseph wants her alive or not at all, but anyone else would be disposable and in the worst-case scenario, she could get them killed if his followers are in hiding around the building. So she opens the door, steeling herself and taking a breath, and lets her eyes adjust to the darkness inside the church.

Sasha looks past the dust in the strips of sunlight streaming in between the boards. Scratches line the wooden floors from the doorframe to the solid mahogany pulpit, and the cool air circulates through the open back door. She follows the scuff marks to Joseph’s legs, crossed on the soft blue cushion of a pew pushed back underneath the cross hanging on the far wall, where he sits reading the Bible and thumbing his prayer beads.

His head tilts up as her first footsteps echo hollowly through the empty chapel.

She folds her hands behind her back and stiffens her spine. “Father Joseph.”

“Miss Rook.” He rises to his feet and sets his scriptures on the seat. “You’re alone.”

“Are you?”

His eyes narrow for a moment, scrutinizing her expression. Her face is placid, but her eyes are searching. For what, he cannot tell, but they’re captivating nonetheless. “I gave you my word,” he replies, voice patient. “I told you I would come alone, so I have.”

Music floats on the breeze from the statue at the top of the mountain the chapel is nestled beneath. Sasha glances around as the haunting, distorted notes pass her ears.

“Here we are,” Joseph begins, taking a few measured steps toward her. “The leader of the Resistance and the leader of Eden’s Gate, alone in an empty room.”

“I want to understand you.” The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, but she means them all the same. “I want to know what it is you’re looking for.”

He rounds the pulpit and gestures toward the box on its lower shelf. “You know how priests scour the congregation to fill their coffers? Some of them steal the money inside and use it for their own gains. Greed… it seeps into every one of us, no matter how hard we try.” He looks back at Sasha and slowly extends his hand toward her. “Greed isn’t just about money. Power, fame… knowledge. You say you want to understand, but you don’t try hard enough. I’ve told you what I want for my family. You’ve seen what I know to be true. And still, you say you don’t understand.”

Sasha watches his hands as he talks, watches the hypnotic swaying of the prayer beads wrapped so tightly around his hand. “Your Heralds give mixed signals,” she says, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Faith seems to fear you. John looks up to you. And Jacob just… does as he’s told. Your followers venerate you as some kind of god.” She relaxes her posture as her arms fall to her sides. “They listen to you all day, but they don’t hear what you’re saying. For all your talk about love and acceptance and basic human decency, your people are ripping families apart and murdering innocents.”

“I never wanted this.” His voice is low and cold as he narrows his eyes at her. “I told you to walk away, but you couldn’t, could you?”

“I’m trying to protect people.”

“So am I. I had a plan.”

Sasha tilts her eyes toward the window as the breeze rattles the boards. “Then tell me your plan. Explain it to me.”

Joseph spreads his arms wide. “Look around you. What good would it do to explain a plan you’ve already laid waste to?” He shakes his head as his arms drop. “You respond to actions, not words. So I’ve been trying to _show_ you what this Project does for people. And you look, but you don’t _see_.”

“I don’t understand your messages, Joseph,” Sasha insists, taking a bold step toward him. “I don’t understand how you can preach humility when you have a statue in your likeness five stories high!”

“ _I_ did not ask them to build it,” he answers, voice rising. “ _I_ do not look to it every morning and praise it!”

“That’s the problem!” She inhales deeply and sighs out the exhale. “Your followers don’t understand you either, Joseph. They see you as a god. Holier than the voice you claim to serve. At least I still see you as a man.”

His head tilts to the side and he peers at her curiously. “Then what is left for you to understand? You see me as a man, all that I am, and you still treat me like a mystery to be dissected and solved.” He takes another step toward her, and they’re less than one arm’s length apart. Their eyes meet and his expression shifts, falling from a scrutinizing stare to a soft gaze. “You think so much, Sasha. You look and you watch, but do you see? You listen, like you say my children do, but do _you_ hear?” She swallows as his hand finds hers and he brings her fingers up to his shoulder. “You think so you don’t feel. Isn’t that true?”

Voice soft and tongue thick, she replies, “Now who’s being dissected?”

A smile flickers across his lips and he pulls her fingers down across his skin to the first of his many scarified sins. “Instead of just looking at my sins… I want you to feel them.” Using her finger, he slowly traces the word carved below his shoulder. “ _Sloth_. It isn’t laziness. It’s reluctance. It’s a refusal of your promises to God. For a long time, I ignored Him. He called to me over and over again, and I closed myself off. I stopped listening.”

He presses her palm flat against the scar, all its rough edges warming under her soft skin. Then he pulls her hand to the scars on his left bicep and follows the letters with her fingers once more. “ _Greed_ ,” he continues, voice lower. “Not for money. I always struggled to survive off what little I made, let alone hoard it.” His hand twists her wrist sharply at the corner of the first E. “No, my greed was for knowledge, just like yours. All I wanted was to _know_ things. Whys and hows and whens and wheres. Just like you.”

Hoarsely, she says, “You think you know me already?”

“I _am_ you, Sasha. Everyone has the same sins. It’s just a matter of what form they take. Ours are… very alike.” He flattens her hand against this sin as well, letting her fingers wrap around his arm. He lets her linger there, taking her free hand instead, and he brings it down his stomach to the capital _L_ carved into his skin.

Her fingers twitch and gooseflesh ripples up her arms. “Joseph—”

“ _Lust_ ,” he hisses, his face drawn close to hers. “Every day, I battle it.”

“How very human of you,” she murmurs, eyes fixed to his. “Are you winning?”

A gentle smirk plays at the edge of his lips before it fades. Instead of answering, he pulls her hand flat across the scars, lets her feel the rise and fall of his stomach with his measured breaths, and he holds her fingers there as her other hand drops to his wrist. “Tell me, Sasha,” he whispers calmly, “is your heart beating?”

Judging by the rapid thumping in her ears, she’d assume so. But before she can nod, his fingers ghost across her chest and wrap loosely around the base of her neck. The pad of his thumb finds her pulse point and presses lightly against it. She finds herself holding her own fingers to the veins on his wrist, letting his pulse beat softly against her skin.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Before she can think, she speaks - something anyone who knew her would be shocked to find out. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

His eyes burn into hers as his hand tightens on her neck. “Do you fear for your life, Sasha? Are you afraid I’ll kill you?”

She swallows, and the sensation of her throat bobbing under his hand makes his eyes flutter closed.

“No,” she answers quietly, lowering her gaze from his face to his hand, still holding hers just above his waistband.

His voice is soft as a kiss on the cheek. “Then what are you afraid of?”

“…I’m afraid of believing you.” Her body is aflame under his touch, and his pressure on her throat forces her to savor every breath. “Of believing _in_ you.”

He leans in until he can smell her vanilla chapstick and he presses his forehead to hers. “If you believe nothing else, Sasha, believe that I want to save you. I want to take you to my side and into my heart.” Again, he clenches his hand around her neck, so tightly this time that she gasps. “Even if you must be dragged.”

Her lips part and he draws away to view her as he releases her neck. She breathes his name, a prayer on the edge of hearing, and he lets go of her hand to cup her face with both palms.

“I want…” he trails off as he looks down in shame, pupils blown wide with one of the sins carved into his skin. He chuckles once, a gentle rasp. “I want so many things.”

“Choose one. Start there.” Her words hold wisdom, even as her expression holds something else entirely. “We’re in a chapel, aren’t we? Confess to me.”

A scowl flickers across his face and his hands fall to her shoulders, just barely brushing her skin. “Sloth. Reluctance to heed the word of God, even in His own house.”

Her eyes shift to the word carved into his arm, lingering on the scars of the first _E_. They look so sharp, so jagged, so painful. He cut that into himself. She can tell.

“Greed,” he continues as her gaze follows the sins on his skin. “Yearning without end. Desire that never, ever stops.”

“And lust?” she asks, reaching out on her own to trace the letters below his stomach.

His face betrays the words he says next, and his voice is layered so thickly with that sweet sin it aches. “What I want to do to you, _with_ you, here and now, in the eyes of God Himself.”

Neither of them need to say any more. Joseph’s hands wander down Sasha's arms, feeling every shiver as she dips her fingertips below the waistband of his jeans. As he slips his hands under her shirt, she tugs at his belt, but the soothing circles he rubs on her sides have her slowing.

“Patience,” he whispers, “is a virtue.”

She turns her attention to her own clothes instead, unzipping her skirt and letting it slide down her legs. Joseph pulls her shirt up over her head and he cups his hands around the sides of her bra, thumbs circling over the lace and padding that covers her nipples.

“How beautiful you are, my darling. Oh, how beautiful.” His voice is reverent, but coarse with need, and he lifts her by her waist and sits her on the pulpit. As he plants a kiss to her forehead, he says, “Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon.”

“Is that…?”

“The Song of Songs. Ignored far too often, if only for modesty’s sake.” His lips move to her jaw, trailing down her neck, and he punctuates the next verse with a kiss each time he pauses. “Your neck is like the tower of David, built with courses of stone. On it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors.”

He slips her bra off her shoulders and drops it to the floor along with her other garments, and he takes in the sight of her scarred and freckled body with love in his eyes.

“You are altogether beautiful, my darling,” he says with heated approval. “There is no flaw in you.”

“Joseph—”

“Shhhh.” He presses two fingers to her lips as he unclasps her bra, and she takes the digits into her mouth as he looks on in what can only be described as wonder.

“Milk and honey are under your tongue,” he murmurs as she releases his fingers. He curls them under the waistband of her underwear and presses them to her entrance. A shiver races up her spine on contact, and he begins to shift his fingers languidly between her folds.

Her back arches and her knees spread, allowing him better access, and as he caresses her, he falls silent under the weight of his own thoughts. He worships every inch of her body with his hands and his lips, circling his fingertips around her most sensitive spot and watching her body react. Soon his fingers are slick, and he cautiously probes her entrance.

Using just one finger at first, he hooks and twists it experimentally. Her first moan reverberates beautifully through the chapel, an echo sweeter than any choir, holier than any hymn. Joseph inserts his second finger, slowly pumping them deeper and deeper within her, and as he spreads them apart, her grip on the sides of the pulpit tightens.

“Hold me,” he instructs with a soft, calm voice. “Come closer.” He braces her up with his free hand, fitting his palm against the small of her back. She pries her fingers off the pulpit and digs them into his shoulders, and his head rolls back as the contact sends heat pooling down between his legs. As he maneuvers his fingers inside of her, she pulls closer to him with her legs, and soon enough her knees are at either side of his waist. She’s held upright only by his hand at her back, her muscles too weak from the pleasure racing through her nerves.

Joseph passes his thumb over her clit and she cries out wordlessly. He pulls her forward on the pulpit and adjusts her body until she lies prone for him like an offering on a dais. He kneels before her and slips his own fingers into his mouth, closing his eyes as he savors her taste. His free hand unbuckles his belt and he finally frees his straining member before he wholly descends upon the woman in front of him.

The first touch of his tongue has all of Sasha's muscles tensing at once. He is patient, agonizingly so, and the languid movements of his mouth send steady waves of molten heat all the way to her core. She is calling for him, though she sounds distant in her own head, and it’s only wordless moaning. Still, it spurs him on, and each intonation has his hands pressing firmer on her legs. His tongue swirls around her clit, each pass across her slit offering him another bittersweet taste as he extols the body offered so tenderly to him.

When she comes, it’s hasty. It’s a white-hot burst that’s over far too quickly, the kind which comes from one’s first touch in much too long. Joseph rises swiftly to his feet and embraces her as she rides out her shuddering climax, and she folds into his arms like a weakened child.

When he helps her meet his eyes, she is dazed and he is concerned. “Sasha? How do you feel?”

She nods slowly and rests her head on his shoulder. “I haven’t done that in… so long.”

He kisses her hair and strokes the base of her neck gently. “Neither have I.”

“But you didn’t…?”

He hushes her once more, fingers carding through her hair and freeing it from its bun. “You are reward enough, my darling.”

She pulls away and takes in the sight of his naked body, crossed with terrible scars and artful tattoos. Not all of them are related to his cult, she notes, but she barely has enough courage to pry into his current life, let alone his past.

“Joseph, you said you wanted to… do things to me.” She focuses her eyes on his, though she struggles to keep them there when the affection she finds feels undeserved.

“And I have,” he answers with a gentle smile. It quickly falls into a frown, however, as he cups her cheek with his dry hand. “Are you unhappy?”

“No. Not hardly.” She hesitates, feeling small and terribly delicate in Joseph’s arms. It’s foreign. Almost uncomfortably so.

_Almost_.

“I just want you to… I don’t want to be the only one who… what I mean is—”

He interrupts her with a brief kiss and rests his forehead against hers. “I don’t want you to feel that my love applies only to your body. We will become one only when you are ready, and not a moment sooner.”

She inhales and steadies herself, holding fast to his arms. “I want to be ready.”

“But how do you _feel_?”

She pauses, trails one of her hands over his shoulder, down his chest, along the _L_ in _LUST_ , and for the briefest of seconds, around the base of his member. Finally, she finds the perfect words.

“I feel like you should stop asking me and start kissing me.”

Joseph smiles - a true, beaming smile - and he captures her lips between his. She tastes herself on his tongue and it sends heat radiating from the pit of her stomach. That knot of anticipation is retying itself with every movement of his lips, every touch of his hands, every lap of his tongue. He’s preaching to a rapt audience, and she never thought she’d feel so steady in his arms.

He reaches down to her apex once more, touching her and spreading her. With one fluid motion, he enters her. The warmth and wetness draws him in, holds him fast; his chin falls to his chest as he steadies his breath after the initial wave of pleasure has subsided. Patiently, he offers her time to adjust to the stretch, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead as she takes him to his hilt. It’s a comfortable fit, comfortable enough to make her wonder if, somehow, she truly was meant for this. For _him._ The slight curve of his cock has his tip brushing up against her walls in the most achingly gratifying way. She leans forward and rests her forehead on his shoulder as he slowly and methodically moves inside her. As the muscles in his chest and arms flex and shift subtly against her skin, she presses herself tighter to him to feel them more fully.

“You feel so perfect,” he sighs, breath caught as he rocks in and out, just to his tip and back to his base with steady, paced movements. “You _are_ perfect.”

“Oh, Joseph.” She turns her head so she can kiss the side of his neck, lips lingering at his pulse point. Between kisses, she says, “I want to know you. I want to know everything about you.”

“Then let me know _you_ , Sasha. Let us know each other.” He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply as his fingers comb through her brown locks. “In every sense of the word.”

Their quiet moans are matched harmoniously, the chorus of a song neither of them know all the words to yet. He takes her by the waist, the hips, the shoulders - anywhere he can reach is fair game when her skin feels this good under his hands. Her scars are rough, but he presses a lingering kiss to each one he can, and he rubs them with his palms as if his touch alone can smooth them down. His own scars are not much better, especially the newest ones, but she traces the ones she can reach nonetheless.

The longer they make love, the further undone he becomes. His rhythm begins to skip as his own carnal desires take control, rocking his hips and grinding his pelvis wantonly against hers. Her voice grows louder and higher-pitched the faster he moves, but he composes himself with some difficulty and strokes her shoulder to maintain at least something of a pattern. She clings to him, kissing and nipping at his neck, his shoulder, his chest. One of her hands remains on his neck while the other slips down between their bodies.

As she starts touching herself, Joseph wraps his long fingers around her wrist and gently pulls it away. He replaces her fingers with his own, attentively stroking her clit as he continues to move inside her.

“You will stand… by my side…” Joseph says between his teeth and into her shoulder, interrupted by his own breath as his pace quickens. “You will be… part of my family. I am their Father… you will… you will be… their Mother.”

He leans his head back and fully sheathes himself within her before drawing back out. “And… together—”

She pulls him back in and locks her ankles together behind his thighs. He spills himself inside her, shuddering from the nearly blinding pleasure washing over him. His head drops to her shoulder as he hoarsely and rapidly whispers, “Oh, God, forgive me my trespasses.”

The sensation of his seed deep within her is what sends her over the edge - and that in itself is something she’d never considered arousing before, yet here she is half-pleading for more. The knot in her core unravels with a bright burst, one that strips her of every sense save for the sparks racing through her every nerve. Her mind is emptied of all but his name… and whether she says it aloud as many times as she repeats it in her head will remain a secret between Joseph and God Himself.

As Sasha regains her feelings, she embraces Joseph, and his racing heartbeat is a soothing pattern to count. She kisses his temple, damp with sweat, and she strokes her hand down his bicep as he slips himself out of her and straightens his back.

“Are you alright?” they ask one another in unison before breaking into smiles and half-sighed chuckles.

“You are so beautiful,” Joseph whispers, hands on either side of her face.

“I never thought…” Sasha trails off, her words trapped in her throat until she swallows and closes her eyes. “When you finished, so did I. That’s… never happened before. And certainly not like _that_.”

“How do you feel?” he asks, his eyes scrutinizing her face for any sign of discomfort.

It takes her several moments, and her gaze is unfocused, but after a long silence she looks up at Joseph and answers softly, “I feel different.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“Sitting naked in a church? A little.” She flashes him a teasing grin. “Sitting naked in your arms? I haven’t felt safer in… years.”

“Sasha… my lamb.” His eyes scan her entire form, relaxed and loose beneath his touch. He kisses her deeply, a slow, lingering connection he can’t help but hum a moan into. “My lamb,” he repeats in a hushed, reverent voice. “I love you. I _love_ you.”

“Joseph?”

“Yes?”

She wets her lips and clears her throat. “When you finished, you… you asked God to forgive you.”

His lips part as if he’s ready to answer, but he closes them again and lowers his gaze. After another moment, he begins again with a sad smile. “Lust, Sasha. Love is gentle, yes, but lust… well, let’s just say I had imagined my first time with you somewhat differently.” He sets about collecting her clothes, almost as if he couldn’t bear to set his eyes upon her any longer.

“I don’t feel used, Joseph.” As he hands her back her bundle of clothes, she tucks them under one arm and takes his hand. “I think you should know that.”

“What _do_ you feel?”

She offers a chaste kiss to his forehead, tipping his head down to reach. “I feel loved,” she sighs. “I feel very, very loved.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated and never expected. If you want to make this gal smile for a whole day, you know what to do!  
> Thank you for reading! I hope every second you spent with this piece was enjoyable! <3


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